The Daisy and the Hound
by berelinde
Summary: Carver and Merrill part ways... for a time. One-shot fluff.


She wasn't like the other girls. She was smart. She might not be able to heal with her magic, but she made poultices and teas, and she knew the names of all the birds in that strange, beautiful language of hers. Aveline thought she was simple, but when was Aveline ever good at judging someone's worth? No one else was as skilled at telling when a person needed encouragement or was just having a bad day. And she was kind. She wasn't too far under the spell of Serah Hawke to save a smile for a miserable, stunted brother. She alone saw beyond the others' attempts to diminish him. She alone treated him with respect. Maybe it was selfish, admiring the reflection of himself in her eyes, but it said more about her goodness than his.

The expedition was supposed to fix everything. He was supposed to be rich, with coin enough to take her somewhere where no one would stare at an elf and a human. He could have protected her from magic-fearing strangers. He'd had a lifetime of practice. It was a beautiful dream, but it was all over now. He wouldn't desert the Wardens and go live in the sewers like some people he knew. Besides, she deserved a better life than that.

He had nothing to offer her now. No wealth, no status, nothing but an eternity of drudgery and duty... when he wasn't risking his life to end the Blights, of course. It was important, but it was cold consolation for losing her.

And so, he stayed away. He blamed the job in his rare letters home, but that wasn't the reason. He couldn't bear the reminder of everything he'd lost. Not that she was ever his to begin with.

And then the Champion was gone.

The city was in chaos. The Templars had no right to govern the city the way they had. The very laws of Kirkwall forbade it, but that hadn't stopped Meredith from asserting her power and squashing everyone who stood in her way. The Champion put an end to her, but that just caused more problems. She was a tyrant, but Kirkwall was used to her, and her death left anarchy in its wake. With the Circle in ruins and leadership in question, templars prowled the streets, slaughtering anyone who looked even slightly out of place. Knowing Merrill, she might as well have painted "I'm an apostate!" on the back of her tunic. He had to get her out of there.

She was packing when he arrived.

"So, you're off, then?" he greeted her from the door.

"Oh, yes," she replied, wrapping a cheese in some cloth and shoving it into an already-full pack. "Kirkwall's no place for me anymore."

"But where will you go?" he found himself asking. "You said that a solitary elf is easy prey for anyone."

"Llomeryn sounds nice, the way Isabela describes it," she said. "I'm not sure why people are so keen on tumbling there, but I can turn a cartwheel or two if it comes to it."

"Oh, Merrill..." Carver began. He wanted to help her, to sweep her up in his arms and carry her away to safety, but now that he saw her again, he was just as tongue-tied as ever.

"Did I miss something dirty?" she asked. Her voice was as innocent and ingenuous as ever, but there was an odd glint of wisdom in her eye.

He stared, mouth agape.

"You're doing it on purpose!" he blurted.

His fantasies about rescuing her had roused him, but comprehension quenched his desire.

"You're cute when you're blushing," Merrill said, patting his cheek.

"So, when did you become so worldly?"

"It didn't happen all at once," she said, returning to her packing, though she was nearly done. "It's been years, Carver, and Isabela is a very dear friend. I do have eyes, you know."

"Oh, I know all right," he said with a touch of bitterness. "They're beautiful."

It was said, and there was no way he could take it back. For a moment, he felt almost confident... and terrified.

"I could go with you," he said in a rush. "I could protect you from the templars."

She jerked the ties of her pack closed and knotted them before replying. When she did, she took his hands between hers and looked up into his eyes.

"I know," she said. "You're very good at that. But I don't want you to. You have your own life to lead, in the Wardens, and so do I. It's past time we learned to stand on our own."

"But I care about you!" he protested.

"I know. I care about you, too, but you want me to live in your world, with your templars and your Circles, even if you don't want me to be in one, and that isn't the life for me."

Something seized in his chest. It was as if Fenris had appeared without his knowledge, ripped out his heart, and replaced it with a blob of hot lead.

"So, that's it, then?" he managed around the lump.

"Almost," she said.

She disengaged her hands from his and placed them tenderly around his neck. Slowly, deliberately, she raised herself up on the balls of her feet and brought his lips to hers.

"But you said -" he stammered even as his arms flew around her.

"I said I won't live in your world," she said, smiling. "I never said you can't visit mine."

"Alright then!" he agreed, grinning broadly. "Looks like things will work out after all!"

And they did. In time, Merrill discovered that the Dalish had already established themselves in Rivain, and they welcomed her readily, eccentricities and all. They might have been uncomfortable at first, finding a shemlen in their midst when his duties allowed it, but he was there at the Keeper's invitation. It was not how Carver imagined it would be, living under Merril's protection rather than the other way around, but he found that it suited him. In time.


End file.
